Flight
by mightyfinestride27
Summary: When Arthur was a child he was forced him to hide something. Something very important. What if Merlin wasn't the only one with a secret?
1. Chapter 1

Ever since he could remember, he knew he was different. Not just because he was Uther's son, the future king of Camelot. No, it was for an entirely different reason.

It wasn't like he couldn't feel things. Like the happiness, anger, and love and the various other emotions normal people experienced. However, ever laugh every tear and smile felt unnatural and hollow. The intensity was never there. It was like he was chained, trapped and no amount of will power could stop him feeling this way. He was missing something and for the life of him he couldn't work out what it was.

As he grew and matured the feeling never left him, gnawing at the back of his mind, his frame of mind making him ignore the way he was treating others around him.

That somewhat changed after a long hunting trip the summer of his 12th year.

He had come back, weary boned, aching but satisfied. The hunt had been good, his skills finally at a level where he could take down larger animals with little difficulty. He had felled a deer!

Too exhausted to fully undress, he had collapsed and fallen asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.

He stirred, an intense itchy sensation running down his shoulder blades. Frustrated and sleepy, he did the most logical thing you would do in that situation. Scratch the itch. He rolled onto his side, reaching behind and trailing fingers under his shirt and up his back. He winced. It stung and felt wet to the touch and there was a lump and something else was hidden underneath it. Blood stained his fingers as he withdrew them and his eyes widened in shock. He didn't remember being injured.

A full length dress mirror stood near his wardrobe and he made his way over to it. Taking his shirt of gently, with a hiss of pain, he turned and craned his neck to look back at the mirror.

Nothing could have prepared him for the sight that greeted him. Two wide bloody gouges spanned the length of his shoulder blades, and as he turned to the side, his shoulder blades elongated further out of his back than they did before. As he probed the red angry looking skin, at first he thought it was a hair that got trapped in the scabbed over skin. A sharp tug and the hair pulled free. As he drew back his hand to look at it, he realised it wasn't a hair at all. It was a feather.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello everyone, sorry it took so long. Should upload another chapter soon.**

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He paced for hours, still no idea what to make of the situation. Not only did he have feathers growing out of his back, but he had training tomorrow and light was peaking through the curtains, meaning morning was nearly upon him.

The scabs were still as red as ever, but more and more feathers could be seen, contrasting greatly with his tanned back, making them look whiter and almost silver in the dim light. The lumps had grown as well, large but not enough to be impossible to hide if the situation called for it.

He tried to quell the panic he felt, the pacing doing nothing to settle his nerves. This was bad, very bad. This could only be the work of magic and if his father found out… well lets say it wouldn't be good for anyone involved. Even though he had only had them for a few hours he already felt protective over them, like they were as natural as his arm, even though they still shocked him every thing he saw them. And he knew if father found out, he would stop at nothing to get rid of them, probable even resorting to plucking him like a chicken to remove them. It wasn't a prospect that filled him with joy.

A knock at the door startled out of his muses and made him jump in the air. He raced to put on a shirt, frantically pulling it over head and body. He checked himself over once before answering.

"Come in," he called trying to sound confident.

It was a servant carrying a breakfast tray, full of delicious looking foods that made Arthur's mouth water. It was at that moment that Arthur realised how hungry he was. The servant, a young man with brown hair and an indifferent expression, placed the tray on the oak wood table and turned to face Arthur.

"Anything else, my lord," the servant said quietly.

"No, that will be all,"

The servant turned and silently made his way out of the room, closing the door behind him, leaving Arthur alone to his breakfast.

As he ate he contemplated his situation. The only way to get rid of them is to find out what caused them in the first place. That meant Gaius. He thought for a moment. No, although he knew he could trust Gaius, he had a feeling in would be better for everyone if no one found out about it, at least until it was all sorted out. But first there was training. Arthur groaned. This was going to be hell.

He was correct in that assumption. His trainer had no mercy and by the time the man was done for the day, everything ached from over exertion, especially his back which burned intensely, throbbing in time with his fast heartbeat. Every time he moved or stretched, he felt the feathers catching the back of his shirt. It created a surreal sensation, causing shivers to run along his spine, distracting him enough that he sustained multiple injuries to the chest. The trainer had dismissed him, as he lay panting, and suggested that he see Gaius for salve for his abused ribs, noticing hesitation in his step.

"Perfect," Arthur thought, as he limped towards Gaius's chambers. It was the perfect opportunity to ask and maybe look though some of the many books that Gaius had at his disposal.

Gaius greeted him as normal.

"What have you done this time?" he said as Arthur walked through the door, not even looking up from what he was doing.

Arthur limped over and plonked himself down on the bench opposite where Gaius was working.

"Training," Arthur said.

"Ah," Gaius said, as he finished what he was doing and glanced in Arthur's direction. He gave his signature eyebrow lift before saying, "better have a look at you. What part hurts the most?"

"My chest, mostly," Arthur said as Gaius walked around the table.

"Lift your shirt up then," said Gaius, sitting himself on the bench next to him, so as to be in the best position to see him.

Panic swept over him for a second. In his eagerness to find out what's going on, he overlooked this rather sensitive subject. Then in relief, he realised that he could just lift the front and not the back.

Gaius inspected the injuries. They had already begun to darken to a deep purple and it had only been half an hour. They would be pretty spectacular sight in a few hours.

"It will be fine in a few days. Here take this," he handed him a small green bottle, the contents of which Arthur guzzled down. They tasted disgusting but already the pain was less prominent.

Gaius moved to the side table and retrieved a jar for his shelves. He handed it to Arthur and started speaking again.

"Spread this over the painful area every evening and the bruising should go down in a few days," Gaius said and turned to look at him sternly, "no training until then. Understand?"

Arthur looked disgruntled but agreed anyway. He opened his mouth but shut it again. Now wasn't the right time to ask.

He left soon after and made his way back to his room.

That night he tossed and turned for hours and finally drifted to sleep.

_Wind. Wind whooshing and blowing through his hair. The sun on his face. A warm weight at his side. Endless blue. Freedom. _


End file.
